


Komm, Süßes Requiem

by TheDarkFlygon



Series: Caeca Fortuna (Bad Things Happen Bingo) [2]
Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Appendicitis, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Frustration, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, Self-Esteem Issues, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: Raimon's captain has to fight against himself if he wants his beloved team to compete in the finals of Holy Road.
Relationships: Kirino Ranmaru & Shindou Takuto, Raimon Eleven (GO) & Shindou Takuto
Series: Caeca Fortuna (Bad Things Happen Bingo) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097189
Kudos: 9
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Komm, Süßes Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> _Hasta siempre, Maestro._
> 
> Written for my Bad Things Happen Bingo card:  
> https://thedarkflygon.tumblr.com/post/639403196939403264/here-is-your-card-for-bad-things-happen-bingo  
> Prompt: Appendicitis + Shindou
> 
> Originally, I was going for a whole other scenario (also in Go, but a whole different beast, believe me), but it just wasn't coming together at all and I decided it just wasn't worth the hassle since I'd end up disappointed by the fic anyway. I figure I'll adapt it for another prompt on my card.  
> Anyway, about this fic. It all started when I saw a mutual of mine on Twitter discuss with someone the absurdity of Shindou's injury as depicted in the anime (yes, I watched 10 minutes of a very unentertaining man play the very British Eng Go localization just to check that) and the fact he has to stay like a week for what seems to be a vague leg injury; instead wondering why Hino hadn't given him appendicitis instead. My brain went haywire about that and I had to give it a shot, and that's where we stand.  
> I'm a bit disappointed in this one because it should've been better, but this was my first time trying to write for Go if we exclude a secret exchange fic I wrote last year that was simpler than that. But hey, it was a fun way to get into the groove of things!  
> also, sorry shindou for setting your appendix ablaze, that wasn't very sakka yarouze of me
> 
> Also big kudos to Rhy who helped me with the title for this fic, since I can't speak a word of German but wanted something fancy because it's Shindou we're talking about lol.

He should’ve been more careful about the stomach-ache he woke up with this morning, but since he’s so used to feeling pain whenever he’s tense and that there was the semi-finals coming up for Raimon, Shindou preferred to focus on what mattered: the match.

Moreover, this sort of aches just tends to disappear after a little while, so he figured that, if he got his head in the match, it’d just go away on his own because his anxiety would fade away once on the field and calculating strategies and tactics for the team to follow and, at times, scoring the goals himself. Being the captain of the team helps you cool your own head down because you realize you need to be the beam of light everyone looks up to.

That one stomach-ache, however, just won’t go away. In fact, it’s even coming with a couple friends that are somehow even more worrisome than a persistent, dull ache lowering in his stomach with each passing moment. Like a symphony, instruments keep adding up to the melody and he’s afraid he’ll end up overwhelmed by a mostly black musical partition he won’t be able to play anymore.

Additionally, as much as he’s trying to search through what he knows of ailments reminiscent of this one, Shindou can’t find a convincing answer; or, rather, can’t find a convincing way to play out a misspelt note. Sure, he’s been queasy ever since waking up too, and the nausea hasn’t let off either; but he’s managed to play piano recitals through worse, if people can believe that. The medicine the school nurse gave him before the going to the match has worked wonders at the beginning, calming the tempo of the thudding pain, so…

So why is he now feeling worse than he’s ever felt?

He isn’t too proud to admit he’s sick, or even to express some worry about that; in fact, he’s certain Kirino must have at least some idea of what’s been going on and so must have their coaches. What he isn’t willing to come clean about, however, is just how his pain is increasing with each step he takes and each observation he makes on the field, rising with each beat. It was dull and softened by medicine when the match began, but now that the half-time has come and gone, it’s turned into a sharp, burning ache that won’t leave, instead hooking itself on what may be his bowel. He doesn’t want to think about it much. He also doesn’t want to think about the fact he can barely keep fluids down.

As the match is soon resuming, he takes back his place on the field, breathing in and out to control the burn. It’s a really weird feeling to put into words, unlike anything he’s felt. It’s not like getting a ball kicked into his stomach, because _that’d_ be familiar, nor is it like the pounding sensation of a fever-induced headache, which’d _also_ be familiar. It’s as if he was being stabbed from the outside (which is already an unfamiliar feeling, but if what he’s read in novels is accurate, then there’s that) and burnt from the inside.

His true condition must be visible to some extent, now, considering Kirino is walking up to him right as the second half is about to start.

“Hey, Shindou, are you okay?” The worry in his friend’s voice is very limpid. “You honestly look like you’ve been through hell.”

“I’ll manage,” he replies with very little certainty in his words. “I’ve got to anyway.”

“You’re sure? I’m not kidding when I say you’re not looking so hot.”

He takes a deep breath, hand hugging his right side. No wonder why it’s hurting: it’s bloated under his fingers and jersey. That’s not a symptom from food poisoning nor stress-induced stomach-aches.

“Please tell the coach if it gets real bad, okay?” Kirino reluctantly gives into his will. “There’s no point in risking so much when we’re so close to the finale.”

“I will. Don’t worry.”

He watches Kirino jog back to his spot on the field as the whistle of the second half resounds throughout the field. It’s showtime.

It should be more difficult for him to move around as quickly as he does now, but the penicillin he happened to have on him (he’d rather avoid any incident, be it with teammates or himself, and having some medicine on him is always a good thing) and took while in the lockers is doing wonders. That’s not to mention the adrenaline of playing against a team as good as Arakumo and the mission to destroy Fifth Sector’s soccer motivating hi even further, allowing him to feel energized and to ignore the pain a little more than he could before. He can fairly easily go with the rhythm and that’s all he could be asking for, right now.

However, he knows it won’t last for a long time, perhaps not even until the end of the match, so he focuses on it and makes sure his appearance on the field matters. Raimon needs to get one more point before the match eventually ends, and God knows they don’t want an encore, so there’s no time to lose. He’ll worry about whatever’s wrong with him later (even if he feels like he won’t last for much longer, thus why he’s getting scared of possible prolongations – he needs to speed ahead before the threat can catch up to him).

He rushes into Amemiya’s area, intending on passing him through force or swift, but he gets blown away by a sudden appearance from Sun God Apollo that takes everyone aback. While he only almost lands on his abdomen, the tumble makes his pain flare up like a sudden higher note and he has to choke a disharmonious second cry of pain. Kirino screams his name back, but he gets back to his knees, a hand on his flank, and tells him he’s all fine.

Shindou knows he’s getting further and further away from that word, of course. He’s been acutely aware of that fact ever since getting up from bed only to get struck by a strong wave of nausea, but he’s got to play and that’s despite knowing ignoring it is a _terrible idea_. If that match doesn’t end quickly enough, he’ll have to be switched out and… he doesn’t want that. He’s the team’s captain, he can’t let himself get won over by what can only be acute appendicitis (and that thought scares him – what if it ruptures and he’s left on death’s doors before an ambulance can arrive? Is it worth putting his life on the line for the sake of the revolution?).

In the end, he decides he’d rather continue to play along to the melody and follow the crescendo of the pacing, purposefully putting aside the rising notes of his pain which keep accelerating quicker than the match does. Tsurugi and Tenma head up to him, the latter expressing the entire team’s determination to win, and propose the three of them unite their Avatars to win against Sun God Apollo and the support from Arakumo’s players.

They’ll rise their power like circuits, Shindou deduces, and summons Instrumentalist Maestro first. It quickly fuses with Sword Saint Lancelot and Demon God Pegasus Arc to form a new Avatar altogether. Demon Emperor Gryphon uses up whatever energy he has left, but they need to stop Sunshine Force before it can reach Shinsuke. He hears Nishiki’s voice tell him not to give in, then Hikaru’s and Shinsuke’s supporting Tsurugi and Tenma, and they push back against the sun as strongly as they can.

They score Raimon’s fourth goal, pushing back against Arakumo’s entire team, and the match ends there.

Applaud resounds in the stadium like it would after a concert, their benched teammates running to them and Tenma… talks to the ground. Okay, he most likely isn’t talking to the soil itself, rather someone – but he can’t really tell anymore. Sounds are starting to mix together, clapping and talking sounding more and more alike, and his heartbeat is the one he can hear the most now. Adrenaline is fading in and serotonin isn’t flooding nearly enough to go against the intensity of the ache which, truly, shouldn’t have been underestimated.

From what little he can tell, he’s certain Kirino is trying to tell him something, but he’s got no idea of what exactly (or even vaguely, on second thought). His legs are about to give in and he’s folded in half, the throbbing and burning starting to become too strong for him to fight against, and all he can really fight against right about now is screaming his head off. There won’t be an encore from him, and even as Kirino gets closer to him, all he can hear anymore is static and all he can see are his own tears.

His eyes roll inside his skull as he collapses in a cacophonous piano key smash.

* * *

At the last minute, right when it shouldn’t have, his body turned on him.

The realization that he’ll have to watch Raimon dispute the finale while he’s helplessly sitting in a hospital bed frustrates him beyond what words can express, but Takuto knows it’d be a losing battle to try and force himself out of there. If his body doesn’t catches up to him, then it’ll be the nurses, and even if he escapes from them, Kirino and Coach Kidou would most likely bring him back to the hospital themselves.

It doesn’t help that he’s still sore from the surgery. Coach Kidou chewed him out for being reckless while Otonashi just stared at him, concerned and frowning. “You don’t seem like the type of person to do that, Shindou”. “You can’t power through things like appendicitis, Shindou”. Watch him: he did. He did, and he won’t ever have to pull through that pain ever again.

The thing is, he was told his appendix almost burst, and that’s what prevents him from actually going for the jugular and get back into the team.

Like that, he lost everything. He gave his captain’s armband to Tenma who seemed terrified by his decision and what it meant (if it was only on him, Takuto wouldn’t have had to inflict that onto his bright-eyed teammate, and the taste of regrets and what-could-have-beens disgusts him). He forfeited his chance to bring back the soccer Kirino and he had learnt to love when in Raimon’s second team. He lost the capacity to lead his teammates.

Really, he doesn’t even have the right to call himself their “captain” anymore: that’d be Tenma because, while he’s here in the hospital wallowing in his own losses, the latter will be guiding them to victory as he’s unknowingly always done. He knows it’ll be all good for Raimon, despite how many times Tenma insists on calling him “Captain Shindou”, going against the flow of events. The team can win, even without him, and he’s gotten over that…

“Don’t beat yourself too much over it, Shindou”, Kirino tells him, concern painted all over his face. “It wasn’t your fault if your appendix just decided to burn up on you.”

Takuto turns his head in his direction. He should’ve known his best friend would be seeing right through him. Even during the team’s visit in his room and despite everyone being fairly squeezed against each other, he was there, watching.

“What am I supposed to do, then? Even if I try to think positively about this, it won’t change the fact I’m stuck here for a week.”

“Thinking about it negatively won’t have much effect either. I’d even argue being positive about this would actually make it better for you. I’ve heard positivity makes recoveries go faster.”

“I suppose I can at least entrust you guys with the finals… You’re all capable of winning against Seidouzan. I know it. I’m just anxious about it and…” he buries his head into his hands, feeling water coming to his eyes, “…useless.”

Kirino doesn’t say anything, instead handing him a tissue so he can dry his tears.

“I’m the team’s captain. I should be training with you guys for the finals,” he gestures to the IV connected to him, pipe linked to a bag of saline solution, “but instead, I’m stuck here, with that thing in my arm, and I can’t even get up yet. I’ve betrayed everyone.”

“Shindou, I can guarantee you nobody thinks that way. If anything, I think we all feel for you. Your frustration is ours.”

Takuto remains silent.

“Tenma begged your surgeon to make you recover faster. Even Coach Kidou seemed angry at himself. Believe me, before we all paid you a visit, most of us were frowning. If you really want to find a traitor, your appendix would be the perfect candidate.”

Kirino gives him a slight smile.

“You’ll always be with us on the field, Shindou. I know you said that to Tenma only half-believing in your words, but I can guarantee you that’s true. We’re a team and it’s not because you got appendicitis that it’s gonna change.”

The smile gets bigger.

“Right, _Captain_?”

Takuto ends up sighing, then resigning himself to the truth.

“Right… even if that’s what you should be calling Tenma, not me.”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing.”

He knows he’ll have trouble applying Kirino’s words for a little while. Being stuck in this room with sore stitches hasn’t helped his mood in the slightest and his anger at himself hasn’t had the occasion to calm down much because of the enclosed space and the upcoming match – but he’ll have to give into it. His recital finished on a misfired crescendo and violent crash, and it’s now time for Tenma to shine and direct the marching band that is Raimon and he’ll have to watch from the sidelines.


End file.
